


Planning a Sweet Dream

by chartreuseClock



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Implied Sexual Content, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Not So Implied Sexual Content, Smut, TLC, Tied to Something Sweet and Brown, mention of PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-30
Updated: 2015-12-30
Packaged: 2018-05-10 07:52:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5577337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chartreuseClock/pseuds/chartreuseClock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Christmas is not an easy time for Snow, but Baz has a Plan to help his boyfriend sleep better.</p><p> </p><p>***<br/>Set in the Christmas after the book ends.<br/>This is a one shot smut fic that ties in to my longer fic 'Something Sweet and Brown', and it explains a little about the dynamics I'm setting up in that 7-years-later universe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Planning a Sweet Dream

**Author's Note:**

> This is from Baz’s POV. I’m trying my hand at first person (and Snowbaz smut).  
> I got really embarrassed writing this because it's been so long, so I hope this turned out alright.  
> If you end up liking this, please check out my other fic 'Something Sweet and Brown' and give me suggestions/help. I need so much help writing.

***

 

As Christmas approaches, Snow’s stress level seems to be increasing more and more, reaching to an almost boiling point. It’s not like I could blame him, could I? Christmas last year had been a total wreck. Crowley, even  _ ‘total wreck’  _ might be too gentle a description what all the literal hell that went down. Snow has every reason to be stressed. He hasn’t been sleeping well at all since December started. Every time he sleeps he would dream about all the ‘what if’s he usually tries not to think about. I’m starting to understand exactly why Snow normally doesn’t think, why he didn’t think before. He’s wound himself up so much he’s practically insomniac at this point. He’s starting to get scared of going to sleep. I have mostly gotten used to the sudden screamings and the staying up, or at least that’s what I would tell him every time he apologizes with that sheepish smile over the breakfast table. 

His smile the morning after would always be apologetic, tired, and so very small. It makes me want to-  _ need _ to kiss him and try to convince him to skip his morning class. For his sake. For  _ my  _ sake. 

 

Snow’s magickal psychologist, the one from Chicago, had suggested that Snow takes less classes for this semester. Though I still have zero interest in joining their Skype calls, no matter how many times Snow asked, I have to agree that she knows what she’s doing. Snow has been an absolute disaster in keeping up with his lessons, and I’m glad that he’s only taking some easy to pass introductory course in literature, and a hobby class. Snow only needs to attend the second one only every Thursday. Pottery. The house has been slowly filling up with his hideous creations, but I have no intention of throwing out any of the pen holders and comb holders that were supposed to be… cups, even if they are really poorly made. Snow made those for me, and I’d kill an army of goblins before I let anyone -even Bunce and her strange taste- take them away. 

 

Still, the lessened burden from classes wasn’t really enough. Snow spent all of last night crying to himself in the bathroom, until I convinced him to take a nighttime stroll with me. It wouldn’t amount to much, but I had hunted already and Snow could use the change of scenery. The bedroom smells like his tears, and I can still hear his desperate cries in the back of my head. 

Something  _ needs _ to be done.

And I’m not sure any of our existing methods have been helping. Sleeping medication makes Snow get flu-like congestions, and neither Snow nor myself really wanted to turn to a drink before bed as a solution. It could easily turn into substance abuse, and he’s already got enough problems to face the psychologist with even without that. Bunce had suggested exercising, but between Snow’s unnatural appendages -he could so easily get hurt with those wings and tail in a gym- and the fact that Snow is the type of bloke that could fall over even on flat ground, the idea was scrapped from the board pretty fast. Spells for putting children to sleep do exist, but they don’t last the whole night, and I certainly am not going to risk spelling Snow into a coma.

 

There  _ was _ an actual whiteboard in the flat for brainstorming, but the contents are wiped now. Bunce has been studying for her midterms and she needed the space. 

It looked like I’m going to have to turn to the backup suggestions that Bunce and I have poured over. 

It wasn’t like I hadn’t considered it before. Despite Snow’s initial surprise, my family is actually a big fan of the romance genre when it comes to film. I know a few things about romancing -usually a lady, as the film industry inclines- and all that jazz, I just never expected to actually be able to use them on Snow until now. I also know quite a few things about the human body. Being in business school doesn’t mean I don’t read other things. I may be technically dead, but my body is still functionally almost human. I just know how people work. I know how  _ men _ worked, and I’m going to use it to Snow’s advantage.

 

***

 

Snow arrived home right on time, looking tired but still handsome as Adonis all bundled up in about ten jumpers. He doesn’t hold heat very well anymore, compared to how he was before. I always wondered if the reason he was so warm was actually partially because of all that magic he had. All that explosive star fire, burning him from the inside. 

 

“Welcome home,” I say, like I live here. I sort of do, at least most of the nights. Especially this whole month. Like hell I’ll leave Snow alone when he’s like this.

“Cheers,” he replies, but there isn’t much of that in his voice.

 

His usually pouchy eyes are dulled by the bags under his eyes, and he’s slouching even more than usual. He’s a bird-boned frame of a boy-man laden with concrete. 

My heart aches for him. It always does, even though it physically barely beats and sits in a cool lump in my chest.

 

I walk over to Snow, and decide to be less of a ‘prat’ today and actually help him out. I ease him out of his jumpers and scarf, waving my wand -a Pitch always has his wand at the ready- with a quick warming spell as he thanked me. He’s barely even coordinated anymore, Crowley, what am I going to do with this poor thing?

“Thanks, Baz,” he smiles anyways, even though he has lost at least five pounds in the last month. Carrying him back to bed is almost like picking up a bag of feathers now. 

It hurts, but that doesn’t matter for now. Snow is the priority.

 

“So Penny said she’s spending the night at her project partner’s dormitory tonight,” Snow announced quietly, as he walked directly over to the kettle and picked up the tea I already made for him. He never drinks it with sugar, but always too much milk. I nod at the ‘news’, like I had no idea and no interest, like I didn’t also know that the secondary excuse had been ‘it’s closer to the library’. 

I’m pretty sure Bunce is planning on getting actual work done anyways.

“And I was thinking we could watch a movie or something,” he continues, glancing over at me all hopeful and hesitant, like I have anything better to do than to spend time with him. Not a whole lot is better than that. “I mean, you’ve been really wound up because of me lately, right? I figured we could spend the night and try to relax a bit.” 

My head shoots up faster than I could stop myself. Aleister Crowley. How did I manage to hoodwink my fate into ever getting Simon Bloody Snow for a boyfriend? I must be a  _ really _ good person in another dimension, there is no way I myself have enough karma or whatever to deserve someone like this. Snow is actually trying to take care of me. Me! When he himself is the one trying to keep quiet every night, thinking I would already be awake when he dreams of fire and blood. 

I clench my teeth together, and just nod again. “We’ll order from that Thai place you like.” The one that seems to try to put as much oil and lard into dishes that really shouldn’t be oily. 

 

***

 

Everything is going according to plan.

Snow has eaten enough curry and rice to feed a room of small school children. We even broke out one of the wine bottles I had been saving for the holidays, and halfway through  _ Home Alone _ Snow is already laughing himself silly I can’t fucking take my eyes off his face. I made sure he’s not drinking more than half a glass of the wine, replacing the content in his hand with a glass of water instead because the last thing we need tonight is Snow crying into vomit. I’m on top of things. I’ve  _ got _ this. 

“Baz, you’re supposed to be watching the movie,” Snow’s voice suddenly cuts in, and I blink. Snow is looking at me with an amused expression, the cool light from the telly is tracing his head of gold with silver. Each of his defined curls encased in frosty blue. 

His eyes are blue. So blue. I didn’t want to look away anyways. 

Instead of replying, I just lean forward and kiss him. Because I can, because I wanted to. He is right there looking exhausted but full and  _ happy _ . When there is no resistance, I kiss him harder. Snow’s wings were folded behind him, but as I snake one arm behind his waist I feel them unfurl reflexively. It’s a really cute reflex, the way his wings would relax every time I kiss him stupid. Stupidly cute, dumb, cute. Everything about Snow could be described as such, really. 

 

I don’t give Snow a chance to get his bearing. I kiss him and suck on his neck (Carefully, with just my lips and tongue, because I will never hurt him) until I feel him melt against the couch and his tail starts to twitch, jerking to wrap around something, usually my leg. 

“What about the movie?” I challenge. While I might have gone soft -stupidly so- for Snow it doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy watching him flush and fluster. And he flusters so beautifully. 

“Nothing! Nothing at all.” 

“That’s what I thought.” 

 

That’s about as good as a yes for me to keep going. Usually I try not to do anything when we’re drinking, but the bottle isn’t even half-empty, and I’d of course still be a gentleman about things if Snow changed his mind. So I kiss him deeper, and he kisses me back just as enthusiastically. For someone who has only dated one other person before me, Snow is an unfairly good kisser. The way his tongue drags across mine, teasing me,  _ challenging _ me until I’m breathless. I can see stars behind my eyelids. I hate thinking about his time when he was dating Wellbelove, but it’s her loss for not keeping Snow. 

It does a man’s ego good when his boyfriend started squirming and moaning into a kiss. It also makes me simultaneously embarrassed and glad that I had fed excessively this morning, because now there’s definitely heat and weight rushing eagerly South when I pulled back to watch Snow pant. 

He is gorgeous even with the visible lines of exhaustion in his face. From the way I can hear his rapid breathing to the way his tail tip would curl with anticipation, there’s nothing about Snow that I wouldn’t put everything on the line for. He is still the most beautiful thing I’ve laid eyes on. Cheeks flushed, soft lips already swollen deliciously, and his  _ eyes _ . Magic or not, there will always be fire in Simon Snow. The way he looks at me makes me feel phantom wisps of heat sneaking across my skin, and I imagine this is how it would feel like if I actually caught on fire one day. If it does happen, then it might actually not be that bad of a way to go out. 

Wait. The plan. Keep it together, Basilton Pitch. 

“I have an idea, Snow, and I’m going to need you to indulge me,” I begin, and I know I’ve got his attention. Usually the easiest time to get Snow to agree to something is at times like this, when I’ve got him riled up and barely thinking. That’s usually how I get him to let me buy him things. It’s a real struggle. 

“Yeah?” I can hear the impatience in his voice as he looks at me properly, eyes still on fire, but his head is tilted with interest. He’s acting like there’s a game coming, and if that’s what he’s thinking, I can make it a game. I didn’t call him  _ Simon _ yet, so he thinks I haven’t gotten serious.

“I’m taking the lead tonight,” I explain, and it’s less a request and more an instruction. Unless he really doesn’t want this, I’m not taking any rebuttals. “You can stop me if you really don’t want it, but you don’t get to do anything, alright?” 

I held my breath as I wait. I can almost hear the slow churn of gears in Snow’s head, and the way he pushes at his bottom lip with his tongue while he thinks makes me want to just push him down and kiss him again. Snow is not good at doing nothing, even when we’re in bed. His hands are always everywhere, trying to touch, trying to help. Not doing anything is pretty much the one thing Snow never does. He takes a long time thinking when he’s tired though, so I start rubbing over his thighs to help him out. He mumbled a quiet ‘okay’ immediately after that, and a ridiculously cute little laugh that I chase with my lips. 

 

Good. I’ve got him right where I want him.

 

Naked, in bed, and moaning in pleasure. That’s kind of how I want him most of the time anyways. I also want to tie him up and lock him in a protected tower, but I already knew I’m disturbed. I’m not about to indulge in that particular fantasy right now. I’m busy reeling from the shock when Snow actually agreed on letting me blindfold him when we moved to the bed. The Plan doesn’t necessarily require a blindfold, in all honesty, but I’m not going to claim to be a chaste man.

 

I run my fingers feather light over all of his sensitive spots, barely touching, just to watch him arch off the bed and twist the sheets under his hands. It’s a whole scene. Snow is ten times more expressive when he can’t see, when he feels like he isn’t being watched, and I want to go back in time to kick my past self for not suggesting the blindfold thing earlier. He’s louder too, and it’s nice to see the room fill up with sounds that aren’t just sobs and muted hiccups. It’s just plain nice to hear him moan in general. We’ve both been stressed about Snow getting stressed lately, and I’m getting confident that the Plan is a great one after all. 

It didn’t even take Snow that long to hit his first orgasm. Even with the strip of cloth around his eyes, I can see that he’s embarrassed about it. He has gone full flushed where I can see his face, chewing on his soft bottom lip like he had done something wrong. I can almost imagine how wide his eyes must be behind the blindfold, how he must be desperately trying to see me. It’s not fair, Snow can’t just dangle bait in front of me like this. He tried to reach up to take the blindfold off, blabbering already. 

“Christ! Sorry about that- I’m just- we can do you now, Baz…” he starts, but there’s no way I’m letting him ruin my plan before I’m done. I’m a Pitch. Pitches get their missions done. (Except the ones where they’re sent to kill the Chosen One, apparently) 

 

(But that’s hardly a bad failure)

“No,” I hummed, and grabbed him by the wrists and pressed them down by his head. I’ve actually always wanted to do this, this specific pose. I will be staked before I let Snow know that I even indulge in this kind of fantasies, but Snow’s reactions have been nothing but encouraging. “Remember what I said? You don’t get to do anything.” Snow gulps, shifting a little. I can feel his pulse drum against my palm from where I’m grabbing onto his wrists. “I’m not done with you yet,” I informed him softly, deepening my voice, just the way Snow likes it. (Snow like a lot of things, and it’s good he’s open about admitting them. Makes my job easier, frankly. I’m going to have to ask him about the pinning and blindfold thing in the morning.)

 

Snow stopped talking, and for a moment I felt an icy tug in my chest, afraid that I pushed too far. But then, slowly, he swallowed again and nodded, almost meekly. 

 

I latched my lips on his Adam’s apple within a second, leaving another blatant mark over the flushed skin. Snow blushes in patches of ruddy red and prominent freckles, and it’s a glorious sight to look at. It makes him look more alive than ever, and I had to fight the urge to just rip the blindfold off myself so I can see his eyes. I release one of his wrists, and start rolling my palm against his flaccid member. Snow gasps like there was static in my touch, and I smile because I know he’s can’t see me. 

 

***

 

Even now, I still lament over how I can’t give Snow a proper blowjob, at least not one that won’t accidentally Turn him. That would be really bad sex, as far as I’m concerned. Killing your partner in bed is traditionally not a good way to declare love. 

However, blowjobs -or the lack of- aside, I can’t help feeling smug by the time the Plan is carried to fruition. I’m going to have to change the sheets though, and I’m definitely going to have to get some warm, wet towels before Snow catches a cold or something like that. 

 

He is limp and loose on the bed after his last orgasm, and he’s still sex flushed and looking well-fucked. It’s definitely a good look for him, not that he doesn’t look good any other time. This is the man that manages to look charming even in ratty second-hand clothes and covered in breadcrumbs, after all. 

I’m not surprised to see that his eyes are closed when I took off the blindfold and clean him up. Watching him sleep while I try to be as stealthy as possible dressing him again, I couldn’t help but sigh. This is basically the extent of what I can do for Snow. I can only be there for him when he wakes up screaming, and try to get enough endorphin in him to keep the nightmares away like this. I can try everything I know to make sure my boyfriend sleeps well, but we’re both still at the mercy of the past.   
I can only hope that he doesn’t have any nightmares tonight. 

 

Snow sighs softly in his sleep. He has always been a bit of a mouth-breather, and I surprisingly got used to his snoring years ago. Spending almost eight years as his roommate helped that a lot. He seems to be sleeping alright for now. It starts snowing gently outside the window.

 

I turn off the rest of the lights, and slip into bed with him.

Tomorrow, I’ll drive him to school instead of letting him take the Tube on shaky legs.

Then I’ll go do more research on spells for good dreams. 

 

***

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you Mooney (astrakiseki.tumblr.com) for beta-ing my work, and squealing at it with me.


End file.
